


heatstroke

by toromeo (ald0us)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alpha Alec, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, aka: jonathan morgenstern has never had sex ed, except with cleaned up anatomy and no mpreg, omega jonathan, this is only vaguely serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 04:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14908718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ald0us/pseuds/toromeo
Summary: Up close, the smell of sweet shampoo and the still-strong musk of omega was nearly overpowering, like the unfortunate few years when Jace had insisted on wearing Axe bodyspray, except sexier.Jonathan experiences heat for the first time. Alec helps.





	heatstroke

**Author's Note:**

> This is...not exactly what I expected to write but...apparently there wasn't enough shame to keep me from posting it SO. I'm here...you're here....enjoy? Set vaguely in early 2b.
> 
> Also, happy birthday Mia!

Jonathan was dying.  
  
It was the only explanation he could offer. Chills, weakness, a passing feeling of heat that came and went, a strange feeling of appetite no amount of food could sate, and an incurable thirst. He felt hyperactive and lazy all at once, unable to relax but also unable to do anything but lie on the covers of his bed, tossing and turning.  
  
He googled his symptoms, and each successive search result had worse and worse news. One suggested a cold, another suggested a rare neurodegenerative disorder. Another, calling itself WebMD (which Jonathan thought sounded very credible) suggested he had cancer that had potentially metastasized to the rest of his body and would kill him within the month.  
  
Jonathan did not particularly want to die of cancer, nor was he quite sure how he would know if he had it or not. He couldn’t exactly go to a mundane hospital—that wouldn’t end well. He wasn’t even quite sure what cancer was. The internet told him it had something to do with dysregulation of proliferative signaling and other things, but none of the science textbooks his father had let him read had said much about that.  
  
There were a few other symptoms Jonathan didn’t want to admit to the judgmental eyes of a google search—namely, that he’d jerked off in the shower nearly three times that morning. It had been a very awkward and uncomfortable affair, hunched over in the shower and trying not to make noise or act like he was enjoying it.  
  
It hadn’t stopped him from googling “masturbation for beginners” a few weeks prior, but those had been different, happier times when he wasn’t dying.  
  
Lying on the bed with the AC set to high and all the fans in the apartment turned his way, Jonathan picked up Sebastian’s phone (rose gold) from the bedside table and pulled up Alec’s contact.  
  
 _< I’m sorry I can’t be at work today, I’m sick._  
  
He thought about adding that he would soon be dead and that Alec ought to send someone around to feed Sebastian’s pet fish (and, Jonathan supposed, Sebastian himself), but then decided that might be rushing things a bit. Also, he knew that if he didn’t return Isabelle’s bootlegged copy of _Mean Girls_ first she’d probably take the fish as hostage and leverage it against him beyond the grave.  
  
A few minutes later, Sebastian’s phone buzzed. Jonathan pawed at it, fumbling to open it with Sebastian’s fingerprint.  
  
 _> I’m sorry to hear that. You okay?_  
  
Jonathan thought about telling Alec the truth about his impending demise, then opted for a tasteful:  
  
 _< Just a cold._  
  
In case this wasn’t comforting enough, he added,  
  
 _< :-)_  
  
Alec’s typing bubble appeared for a few seconds, then disappeared.  
  
 _> Are you sure? You didn’t notice that time the elapid demon dislocated your shoulder. It must be pretty bad._  
  
Jonathan recalled the incident at hand with a tinge of embarrassment. Apparently, it unnerved people to walk around with your shoulder out of socket. It had been a minor hindrance, but Jonathan had meant to fix it, _eventually_.   
  
_< It’s fine, really._  
 _< I can do my work remotely._  
  
Jonathan congratulated himself silently for putting on such a brave face.  
  
 _> If you’re too sick to come to the Institute, you’re too sick to work._  
 _> Take some time off and get some rest._  
 _> Do you need soup?_  
  
Jonathan thought about the one time he’d seen Alec make lunch for himself, and decided death might be preferable.  
  
 _< I’m fine, thank you._  
  
 _> Okay, if you’re sure._  
 _> Get some rest, and let me know if you change your mind about the soup._  
  
Jonathan thanked him and flopped back onto the mattress, defeated. It was still so warm. He was sweating copiously. He wanted a drink of water. He wanted something to eat. He wanted someone to come and—  
  
 _Oh no_. That was a very bad thought. Jonathan rolled over and pushed his face into the pillows, searing with embarrassment. It was so horribly hot. Jonathan kicked off his slippers and contorted himself so he could pull off his socks, then rolled onto his back and pulled his laptop onto his lap.  
  
Right. The Institute.  
  
He needed to check in on the server farm—there’d been some unusual network traffic recently. He definitely needed to talk to Alec about investing in a higher grade firmware firewall, and maybe finding a way to keep mice from eating up his cables. Half his day was taken up killing the blasted things, and he’d gotten very good at hunting them, but it was a waste of time and, frankly, beneath his dignity.  
  
The last time he’d tried to talk to Alec about technology, it had taken ten minutes to torture out of him what operating system he used—when asked which version of android OS his tablet ran, he had wisely replied, “The candy one.” Jonathan had nearly been reduced to tears. He was not looking forward to explaining the tiers of firmware firewalls, nor what a firewall was to begin with.  
  
His email notification pinged and Jonathan was dismayed to find another email from Raj, informing him that his copy of Skyrim was broken again. With a sigh, Jonathan told him to uninstall nonessential mods and crosscheck their compatibility next time. He thought about reminding him that as the head of security he wasn’t actually responsible for fixing the calamity brought on by more than one nude mod on a videogame, but thought better of it.  
  
And with that thought, the urge to jack off in the shower returned.  
  
With a groan, Jonathan shut his laptop and assumed the fetal position. It was still stiflingly hot in the room, and his clothes were becoming damp with perspiration and clinging to his skin. He hated this. He hated everything. He really wanted to jack off again.  
  
With an edge of desperation, Jonathan peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside, groaning in momentary relief as the faint breeze brought on by the fans chilled his skin. He wiped off the sweat beading on his upper lip and forehead, then very resolutely opened his laptop back up and promised himself he would focus.  
  
Another email, from Raj. One of his friends had gotten the blue screen of death from Windows 10 after it forced an update. Jonathan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to keep from hitting something.  
  
 _Dear Raj,_ he typed. _I am not IT services. Please direct your queries to the official Clave channels. Cheers, Sebastian._  
  
He almost regretted picking Duncan to carry out his plan, not Raj. At least then he’d be too terrified to send him so many inane messages.   
  
Raj replied a moment later and Jonathan resisted the urge to toss his computer out the window. Taking a few deep, calming breaths through his nose, Jonathan opened the message.  
  
 _But ur the only one who actually fixes shit. Pls help us_  
  
Jonathan’s ire wavered, his ego inflating slightly. He had remote desktop control on most of the machines in the Institute, but if the machine had thrown the blue screen of death that might not be helpful. If it was because the stupid Nephilim had torrented more infected porn he was going to have to take drastic action—like downloading it properly and distributing it himself, safely.   
  
_Have they tried powering it on and off again?_  
  
He was probably going to have to reimage it. He seemed to do more of that and catching mice than anything useful. It would be a sheer miracle if anyone noticed the elevation of privilege vulnerability he’d built into the new images, considering most of the shadowhunters he spoke with had to be told how secure-socket layer protocol worked.  
  
Jonathan propped himself up on his stomach, trying to ignore the urge to go douse himself in cold water. His skin felt distressingly sensitive on the suddenly rough material of his sheets and— _oh_. He didn’t even know his chest could feel that way, as if fireworks were going off in the back of his skull.  
  
Jonathan grabbed his comforter and hugged it to his chest, rubbing into it. It felt good—better than Jonathan had thought possible. On an urge, he hooked a leg over and rolled into it, rubbing and pushing himself into it, trying not to feel pathetic and gritting his teeth to keep from making noise.  
  
 _This_. This wasn’t the cure to his malady—if anything it seemed to inflame him even more. He needed—he needed this and more, he needed—  
  
Jonathan pulled off his boxers and tossed them off the bed. He both knew what he wanted and had no idea how to fill the need. He fisted a hand around his cock and gave a few desperate jerks, no little avail.  
  
Jonathan whined in frustration, burying his face in his comforter. He felt so ridiculous and ashamed all at once, as if he were a child again.  
  
A knock sounded on the door and Jonathan jolted upright so fast he nearly knocked his computer to the floor. In a flash, he was on his feet—in another he had thrown a blanket around his shoulders and stuffed his feet into his slippers. If this was fucking Heather from the fifth floor asking if he had change for laundry again, so help him Azazel—  
  
He threw open the door with a scowl. “Yes?”  
  
“Hey,” said Alec, looking somewhere between amused and confused. He looked Jonathan up and down, as if taking in his flushed, sweaty, and disheveled appearance. “Nice slippers.”  
  
Jonathan looked down at the bunny slippers he’d bought at the drugstore, then back at Alec. He thought they were very nice. He was also mostly naked in front of his boss.   
  
 “Alec,” he said, a bit breathlessly. He pulled the blanket more tightly around his shoulders. “Um, what are you doing here?”  
  
Alec shuffled and held up a paper bag. “I brought takeout. I was going to bring soup like I said but for some reason Jace suggested this instead.”  
  
Jonathan was not precisely Jace’s biggest fan, but he begrudgingly knocked Jace down from “archnemesis unto death” to “archnemesis unto some indeterminate time in the future that probably won’t actually come.”   
  
“You shouldn’t have,” Jonathan said, distracted the smell of his cologne. Was that cologne? Alec never wore cologne. He wore Old Spice once but Luke Garroway had been so enthusiastic about it he’d dropped it entirely and gone back to a generic brand. Either way, he smelled incredible—like the first piece of cake Jonathan had ever had. His mouth had watered so much it nearly hurt. His mouth was watering now. What the hell was _wrong_ with him? Was this the cancer?   
  
“Er, do you mind if I come in?” Alec said. Jonathan had the most peculiar and terrifying urge to run his fingers through Alec’s dark hair. “I mean, unless you were sleeping.” He gave another dubious look to Jonathan’s blanket attire.  
  
Jonathan opened his mouth to find an excuse but instead something primal and traitorous overpowered him and he said, “Oh um, yes, yes come in, do you—do you want some tea?”  
  
  
  
  
Alec followed Sebastian into the apartment and was immediately hit with the smell. It was so strong it nearly made him stagger; if it hadn’t been for a lifetime of practice in self-repression, he might have gasped aloud. As it was, he was definitely feeling a bit dizzy.   
  
Panic set in a moment later. He had definitely just made a very big ass of himself.  
  
“I have Earl Grey and Jasmine,” Sebastian was saying, his cheeks were flamingly pink. “Or coffee if you’d like. I don’t really drink coffee but I have some if you want.”  
  
“I uh, I’m sorry,” Alec managed to say. His brain was operating a lot slower than usual—probably due to the volume of blood rushing downwards—but the alarm bells of embarrassment overrode any other...effects. “I thought you meant a cold not—not uh.”  
  
He let the word _heat_ hang awkwardly in the air between them for a moment, then hastily set down the takeout bag on the kitchen island.  “Well uh. I hope you don’t think—I didn’t mean to be unprofessional or, uh, well—I didn’t mean to intrude or, uh, something and uh—I’ll just go now.”  
  
He turned on his heel to flee for the door, some remote part of his mind planning his inevitable exile to Iceland as a goat herder under an assumed identity, when Sebastian lurched forward with incredible speed and grabbed his wrist.  
  
“Wait,” Sebastian gasped, and by the Angel his hand was feverishly hot. His pale skin was drenched in sweat, big blue eyes glassy and upturned Alec’s way, perfect, full lips red and wet. “Don’t leave. You—you smell really good. Also, I’m dying.”  
  
Alec blinked. Whatever life, his panicked imagination, and an adult lifetime of unauthorized, bootlegged porn had prepared for him for, this was not it. “What?”  
  
“I’m dying,” Sebastian repeated, a bit more breathlessly. The grey blanket he’d clutched to his chest had slipped off one pale shoulder, which was flushed quite pink. All of him was quite pink. He looked afflicted, as if he were begging Alec to spare his life. “The internet—it said so.”  
  
“Er,” said Alec. Quite a few trains of thought were crashing into each other at once. “You’re dying?”  
  
“Of cancer,” Sebastian said, very solemnly. “WebMD said so.”  
  
A few very puzzling pieces fell together at once, and some deep-seated terror struck him like a bolt of lightning.  
  
Sebastian had never been given The Talk.   
  
Alec was going to have to give him The Talk.   
  
Alec was going to have to give a nearly-delirious twenty-five year old The Talk, and he didn’t even have Izzy to guide him through it and yell at him if he fucked up, nor Jace to say “that’s what she said” after every single sentence he uttered.  
  
“Fuck,” said Alec.  
  
Sebastian blinked distressingly pretty blue eyes. Between grabbing his wrist and now he’d somehow managed to find his way into Alec’s arms, which was also intensely distressing. “Really?”  
  
“No. No.” Alec disentangled himself from Sebastian’s surprisingly strong, clingy grip. “You....you sit down. I’m going to get some air.”  
  
  
  
  
One very panicked phone call to Izzy and a very hasty trip to the nearest apothecary later, Alec’s pulse had finally stopped speeding. He still felt a bit dizzy and definitely very...affected, but back in control.  
  
Alec was an alpha. Everyone he knew, with a few exceptions, was also an alpha. The few omegas he did know used blockers, and were effectively betas. He had definitely not been exposed to an omega in the throes of heat, and definitely not an extremely attractive blonde omega who also happened to be his coworker.   
  
In short, he was out of his depth. Also, very horny. The two were connected.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Alec steeled himself and knocked on Sebastian’s door. The door swung open in an instant.  
  
“You should take a shower,” Alec blurted out, before Sebastian could do or say anything. “A cold one. A very cold one. I’ll—I’ll make you some tea and then you’ll feel better and we can talk. Okay?”  
  
“Okay,” Sebastian said. Obediently he headed for a door Alec had to assume was the bathroom, and fuck, if that didn’t do things to him.  
  
“Focus, Lightwood,” Alec muttered, a bit darkly. Shutting the door behind him, he went to the windows and opened them, waving a hand as if to waft the smell of omega out of the air.   
  
It didn’t work.   
  
Ignoring his distress, Alec went to the stovetop and picked up the kettle, filling it at the sink and putting it on the nearest burner. It took him a bit to figure out how to operate the stove knobs, but he figured it out with only a few unnecessary fires. After a bit, he heard the rush of water from the direction of the bathroom.  
  
He took the bag of herbs from his pocket and searched the cabinets for a mug, then took the little muslin bag and put it in. Once the kettle was ready, he poured the water in, watching the dried herbs stain the water a murky red. It smelled like the pomegranate tea Jace liked.  
  
Alec carried the tea to the living room, sitting down on the couch and setting it on the coffee table. The apartment was cozy but surprisingly spacious for New York, and decorated with all kinds of entertaining odds and ends, as if the owner had spent a lifetime collecting a nest of shiny objects to build a home with. He admired the worn but still proud piano in the corner, the tidy clutter, the unmade bed with tangled bedsheets.  
  
A few minutes later Sebastian emerged, wearing a black bathrobe and looking extremely miserable, like a cat given a bath.  
  
“I’m cold,” he muttered. “Cold, and dying.”  
  
Alec handed him the tea mug. “You’re not actually dying,” he said, trying to sound gentle and calming but probably just sounding awkward. “Try the tea. It’ll help with your heat.”  
  
Sebastian spluttered halfway through his first sip, spitting some of it back out. “My _what_?”  
  
“Well you’re...you’re an omega,” Alec said, a bit helplessly.  
  
If anything, Sebastian looked even more stricken. In the whispered, petrified tones one might ask if he were slated for execution, he asked, “Am I _pregnant_?”  
  
Alec stared. Kept staring. Replayed the words in his head, very carefully, to make sure he hadn’t misheard.  
  
 “No,” he said at last. “No you’re—why on earth would you be—that’s not even possible.”  
  
Sebastian looked apprehensive. “Are you sure?”  
  
“I’m sure,” Alec said, firmly. “That’s not how that works. You’re—you’re not going to get pregnant, you don’t even have a womb or a—never mind. The point is that you’re an omega, and sometimes you’ll go through heat. It’s just an instinct—an evolutionary holdover, you might say. Most omegas take blockers that keep their hormones from going wild.”  
  
Sebastian took another sip of tea. He looked a lot better, less sweaty and desperate, but there was a strange edge to his eyes that made something uncomfortable slip around in Alec’s gut. “Is that why you smell good?” he asked. “Because of hormones?”  
  
“Pheremones,” Alec corrected, a bit pedantically. “But yeah. That’s why—why alphas and omegas have to watch themselves around each other because—well, it can lead to stuff they regret. Like, wanting it in the moment but once the chemicals wear off...not so much.”  
  
To his surprise, Sebastian looked impishly delighted, curling up in his armchair as if given the most exciting news of his life. “So you wanted me?”  
  
Alec swallowed, picking his next words carefully. “Yes and no. I...I definitely picked up your scent but...I didn’t want to hurt you.”  
  
He did not say how he’d admired Sebastian before, at the Institute, how he’d been unable to look away from his narrow waist, his pretty, graceful legs, his curved, perfect lips. How he had to fight to keep himself from looking now. Or how the smell of _omega_ was suffocatingly thick in the room.  
  
“The tea uh, helps with the heat,” Alec added, a bit superfluously.  
  
Sebastian looked down at the tea mug, then back to Alec. There was definitely something slithering in his gaze, and Alec swallowed again, suddenly rather short of breath. “What if I don’t want it to be helped?”  
  
Words failed Alec’s brain and he flailed mentally a few seconds before saying, “Uh, sorry?”  
  
“I like you, Alec,” Sebastian said, a coquettish curl twisting his lips. His lashes lowered, then he looked up again. His eyes were very blue. “I’ve liked you since we met.”  
  
Alec’s chest suddenly felt very tight (and his jeans tighter). He had never expected this to happen—in fact, his plans for the future consisted mostly of eternal bachelorhood and maybe a cat. Or ten cats. Which was, in fact, an upgrade from his previous life plan, which had consisted of pining after Jace until he died.  
  
“Oh,” said Alec. “Well, uh, that’s nice.”  
  
 Alec felt a tiny sliver of his soul break off, wither, and die. _That’s nice_. Good thing he’d already started picking out cat breeds.  
  
Sebastian, to his credit, seemed undeterred, getting up and stalking catlike to sit down next to Alec on the couch. Up close, the smell of sweet shampoo and the still-strong musk of omega was nearly overpowering, like the unfortunate few years when Jace had insisted on wearing Axe bodyspray, except sexier.  
  
“So does it work on you like it works on me?” Sebastian asked, with a smile Alec couldn’t think of a better categorization for besides “slutty.” “Are we imprinted on each other, or something?”  
  
He sounded rather hopeful.  
  
“No, it doesn’t work like that,” Alec said, trying very resolutely not to imagine what Sebastian looked like under his silky bathrobe and failing miserably. It wasn’t his fault the exposed V of his skin looked satin-soft, begging to be touched. He thought about asking if anyone had ever bothered to explain to him how sex worked, or how he’d managed to live this long—or be around Jace and Izzy more than ten minutes—without being given an inkling about how sex worked, but decided against it. Maybe they didn’t believe in sex ed in Britain. Alec made a mental note to ask Aline the next time he saw her. Sebastian was her cousin, after all.  
  
Sebastian looked a bit embarrassed, which only served to make his cheeks pinker and Alec’s arousal intensify. “I...I have done it before, you know,” he said, as if reading Alec’s mind. “But only with mundanes.”  
  
He didn’t have to explain why—the Clave begrudgingly put up with Alec’s existence, but made it very clear he was on thin fucking ice.  
  
“Is it...is it true that alphas are more...” Sebastian broke off, looking even more embarrassed than before. He cleared his throat, then plowed onwards. “...dominant?”  
  
Alec swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. By the hesitant, nervous tone of his voice it was obvious which answer Sebastian wanted to hear. Which answer he _wanted_. “Not always,” he said. He was feeling seriously light-headed now, which spelled clear and utter disaster—if he’d actually had the mental presence to be able to read. “But, uh, I am.”  
  
“O-oh,” Sebastian said, and his voice honest-to-the-Angel cracked over the word. “I don’t suppose you’d like to, ah, show me—?”  
  
Before he could even finish Alec had leaned in and pressed a long, ferocious kiss to Sebastian’s infuriatingly tantalizing lips. He made a sound of surprise that quickly turned to another kind of sound as Alec pulled at the belt of his bathrobe and slipped the slick fabric off Sebastian’s shoulders. The tense muscle in his shoulders shifted sinuously and he arched his back, parting his lips to allow Alec access to his mouth, grabbing at Alec’s shoulderblades.  
  
His skin was smooth like the silk of his robe, his mouth velvety and his smell like the heady undertow of mulled wine. Sebastian clung to Alec’s shoulders as if he were drowning, his soft, breathy sounds filling Alec’s ears. He tasted of unsweetened tea and salt, his skin hot to the touch; the couch groaned and creaked beneath them as Alec positioned himself above him. Sebastian’s silk robe slipped down to his thighs as he pressed them to Alec’s waist, and Alec couldn’t help but touch, run a hand down the faint down of hair and the tender skin.  
  
Sebastian groaned as Alec grabbed one of his wrists and pushed it haphazardly over his head, against the arm of the couch. The position was awkward, but the way Alec’s blood seared in his veins he didn’t care, didn’t care about any of it, didn’t care about decency or the Clave or what they would think, nothing but stringing out another moan from Sebastian’s pretty lips, the delicious buzz of the sound against their lips. Nothing but that smell, intoxicating and perfect, making his brain buzz white and his whole body thrum with need.  
  
“Alec,” Sebastian gasped. Something foreign and possessive curled around Alec’s chest and the two syllables of his name pounded in his skull and sweetened his mouth, tasted from Sebastian’s lips. “Please—please, Alec, I need—“  
  
  
  
  
The words weren’t even fully on his lips when the world shifted and they evaporated entirely. Alec grabbed his waist and pulled him bodily off the couch and together they stumbled towards the bed, Alec’s archer’s arms and his superior height folding around him—tight. Perfect.  
  
Jonathan had hardly braced himself on the mattress before Alec seized his hips and all but dumped him on the bed. He tumbled forward with a gasp of delight, reveling in the feeling of Alec’s hand on his back, his own knees digging into the sheets, the shifting of the bed with Alec’s added weight. His head tipped back as Alec curled around him, his body pressing heavily into Jonathan’s back. A reckless sound loosed from his throat, his now bare skin alight with the rough sensation of Alec’s clothes. His bathrobe was a silk wrapper beneath him, tangled with his and Alec’s limbs.  
  
 _Omega_ , he thought. For once, the word tasted sweeter than bitter. It tasted of possession, of salt and sex, of being _wanted_. Alec _wanted_ him, and that shared want throbbed between them like a living thing. He was Alec’s, and Alec was _his_ , his alpha—  
  
“Um—“ Alec’s panicked whisper against his ear interrupted his steamy thoughts. “Do you have any—um, lube?”  
  
“Oh, um—right.” Jonathan strained to reach for Sebastian’s bedside table, where he’d bought a bottle from the convenience store downstairs in a moment of weakness. His past self had also thoughtfully included an (unopened) box of condoms, and a pack of breathmints. He grabbed both the bottle and the box and laid them on the comforter, reaching out again to hastily shut the drawer.  
  
“Do you—“ the confidence was definitely draining out of Alec’s voice, “Do you want to do it or should I?”  
  
“You do it,” Jonathan replied. He felt so deliciously vulnerable and weak naked and on all fours, and longed for Alec to touch him again.  
  
“It might be a bit, um—“  
  
“You can be rough,” Jonathan interrupted, hoping he made it sound less like permission and more like a request. Or an order. He wasn’t particular.  
  
Alec muttered a stifled _right_ and uncapped the bottle. A few torturous seconds and then Alec’s hand on his ass, cupping the cheek. A hesitant touch and Jonathan hissed, on instinct. A few muttered _sorry_ ’s as Alec rubbed his hands together, then another hand on his back, more confident this time.   
  
“Ready?” Alec’s voice was low and rough and Jonathan’s stomach curled up in excitement. A bright flare of discomfort and Jonathan groaned, pushing back against Alec’s hand until the discomfort became tinged with pain. Alec pulled back, shifting around, curling his finger until the movement felt smooth and pleasurable. Jonathan whined as he added another finger, mostly in frustration. He wanted Alec now, damn the rest.  
  
“Patience,” Alec admonished, and grabbed Jonathan’s jaw with his free hand. Jonathan moaned, feeling the pleasant pressure on his throat spreading to his cock. He spread his knees further over the comforter to give Alec better vantage, the air in his chest thick and heavy.  
  
“Good,” Alec said, awkward but firm with the praise. Jonathan drank it in like fine wine, delighting in that one, perfect syllable. He withdrew and Jonathan made a tortured sound, quickly cut off as he heard the sound of Alec unbuckling his belt and dropping it aside. The hand left his throat and Jonathan heard the momentary hasty shuffling of clothes, the unzipping of jeans. Alec muttered curses under his breath, fumbling with his jeans. Jonathan wished he could help Alec undress like a proper omega, pull that zipper down himself, take Alec’s cock in his mouth—  
  
His mouth abruptly began to water and Jonathan felt a hot wave of embarrassment. He wanted Alec with a desperate, pathetic fervor—he needed him, right now—  
  
 _Oh fuck._  
  
Alec slowly began to press into him and all thought was promptly blasted form his skull. Jonathan gasped, chest abruptly so tight he could scarcely even breathe, his lips falling open in a silent moan.  Stars danced in his eyes and he grabbed fistfuls of the covers, toes curling in delight. He felt so _full_ , so full it almost hurt, but it felt so inexplicably _right_ and true.   
  
“Wow,” Jonathan gasped. He felt light-headed and almost dizzy; he let himself sink onto his elbows, pressing his forehead into the lush comforter. He hoped Alec hadn’t heard what he said and had instead heard something very sensible and sexy.  
  
Alec wrapped around him, bracing his arms around Jonathan’s shoulders, and his skin was warm where it met Jonathan’s back. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin of Jonathan’s inner thigh and Jonathan whined and sighed aloud, the tension melting from his spine. The touch was magical, electrifying his nerves and sending waves of delight up his spine. Alec explored up to his hips, fingers cradling Sebastian’s sharp hipbones, then pulled Jonathan back and pressed into him, agonizingly slowly. The heat of his embarrassment increased, bleeding into his arousal. There was something thrilling about it: moaning so loudly, giving into abandon, being so wanton.  
  
“More,” Jonathan groaned, his voice coming out hoarse and breathy—and very slutty—even to his own ears. “Fuck me. Fuck me now, please,  Alec, _please_ —“  
  
Alec’s hips jerked and Jonathan gasped aloud, yanking reflexively at the sheets. The pace Alec set burned, leaving Jonathan overwhelmed with sensation but also aching for more: a more brutal pace, a sharper pain. Each jerk of Alec’s hips sent a starburst through Jonathan’s body, like the fourth of July fireworks he’d seen from Sebastian’s apartment. They had been so beautiful, like nothing he’d ever seen before, fire in its purest form—nothing but harmless light.   
  
As if from a great distance Jonathan could feel himself moaning and panting in abandon, arching in Alec’s arms and clenching around him to wring out the last drop of pleasure. They were both breathing hard, Alec’s chest heaving against his own, their skin slicked with sweat; the sheet below was cold with Jonathan’s spit where he’d been gasping into the sheets.   
  
He was so close, so fucking close it scared him, as if release were an abyss and Jonathan might topple over at any moment—  
  
Alec’s hand wrapped around his cock and a few rough thrusts later pure unadulterated bliss rammed up Jonathan’s spine. He gasped out his orgasm helpless in Alec’s arms, all thought and feeling blasted away for a few precious seconds. He went boneless, sinking into the mattress, Alec’s weight curled around him.  
  
Jonathan floated in the sunlight and few faint aftershocks, eyes closed. His body was raw and aching, suspended in contentment. Languidly Alec rolled off him with a filthy sound, leaving Jonathan’s thigh’s slick and sticky.  
  
“Don’t go,” Jonathan mumbled, pawing at the sheets in Alec’s vague direction. With effort, he dragged himself closer, curling in so that he could rest his cheek on Alec’s chest, his hair tickling Jonathan’s nose.   
  
Alec’s arm rested heavily on his waist and Jonathan snuggled against him, enormously content. He loved how his body fit against Alec’s, how their slow breathing was perfectly in sync, how the sunlight from the window—once oppressive—gently kissed his skin.   
  
“That was, um. Nice,” Alec said, then promptly looked embarrassed.  
  
“It was,” agreed Jonathan, who had nothing more poetic or seductive to add. It was definitely better than jacking off in the shower, but Jonathan wasn’t sure he should say that out loud.  
  
Alec’s hands wandered absently over his body, tracing the curve of his ass, the ridges of his hipbones, and Jonathan thought wistfully about sucking him off in the shower. He wondered if Alec was taking in the pale expanse of Sebastian’s back, admiring the constellation of tiny brown moles. Jonathan loved mapping them out in the mirror, tracing them on his own stolen skin like they were an atlas to the stars.  
  
A stray thought occurred to him and Jonathan frowned, reaching up to feel his neck. “You...you didn’t bite me,” he said, hearing the whine in his voice.  
  
Alec’s brown eyes flicked open, looking shocked and horrified. “Why would I _bite_ you?”  
  
Jonathan’s confidence wavered somewhat. “Because...that’s what alphas...do? To show...you know. _Ownership_.”  
  
Alec’s eyes rolled shut and he heaved a quiet sigh. “They don’t.”  
  
“Okay.” Jonathan was silent for a moment. “But you know—I wouldn’t mind if—if you bit. In fact, I think I might like it. Really. In fact, you could bite me right now and I—“  
  
“Biting? Seriously?”  
  
“It means you love me,” Jonathan said, putting all the pout he could into his voice and hoping the hormones—pheromones, whatever—won Alec over.  “Also, it’s sexy.”  
  
Alec muttered something that sounded like _kinky bastard_   but dutifully leaned in and pressed a firm, almost punishing kiss to Jonathan’s neck where it met his shoulder. In a quick movement he had Jonathan on his back, sucking at the fragile skin. Jonathan whimpered gratefully as he felt the scrape of Alec’s teeth; Alec’s hands closed around his wrists and he trailed a string of bruises over Sebastian’s delicate collarbones until Jonathan was practically shivering with delight.  
  
“Better?” Alec asked.  
  
Jonathan nodded, then gave Alec his best approximation of a shy yet sultry smile. “Much better.”  
  
Alec made a harrumphing sound and rolled over back onto the mattress. “I’m taking a nap. If Jace or Izzy call, tell them I broke a leg.”  
  
Jonathan promised solemnly to do so and re-arranged himself back into Alec’s arms. In moments Alec was snoring and Jonathan was pretty sure his arm was falling asleep.   
  
If this was what dying of cancer was like, Jonathan decided as he thanked WebMD and his lucky stars, he was going to have to do it more often.

**Author's Note:**

> don't @ me


End file.
